sci-fiolence

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Things I wish I saw more of in living weapon whumpees: a non-comprehensive list from being around actual Marines and army people

They can and will sleep anywhere... except an actual bed. The moment you give them access to an actual bed with a mattress and sheets, their immediate instinct is to make it up in barracks style, not sleep in it. The moment they're expected to sit and wait and/or have no expectations of them, they lean back and enter a light doze.

Caffeine addiction. Usually through pills, sometimes through special caffeinated gum. This pairs with the weird sleeping habits.

When they ARE guaranteed eight hours of rest, at least two of them are spent maintaining equipment/ their uniform if permitted. When they wake, they're up and ready for whatever comes next in under five minutes. This includes making up the bed.

If it's not the bare minimum to keep them functional and armed, they don't have it. This is going to be especially true for LWW's who were raised in the lifestyle and/or brainwashed after abduction from civilian life. Watches, jewellery, spare clothes, even non-obtrusive things to occupy them outside of training like books or a phone are not things they have without stealing or being given a gift by someone around them.

Paired with above, they have no preferences for what they do get. If someone above them fucks up and gives them too-small or too-large clothes, they just make it work and take the punishment they don't deserve at inspection time. If the only toilet is a bucket on the floor, they use it without complaint.

Their language when speaking freely is something the fuck else, like for real the shit that comes out of their pieholes is unbelievable! A "fuck" every other word!

They only speak when spoken to, and when they do, it's in what I like to call a Sir Sandwich: "Sir, [response goes here], Sir", usually in a very flat and (if appropriate) loud tone. "Sir" can be considered gender-neutral in this case and is meant to denote someone in authority, not a masculine someone specifically.

Buzzed hair on men, pixie or chin-length bob on women, though if your LWW is the only woman in a mostly masc environment, buzzing her hair can be a deliberate tactic by her captors/superiors to dehumanize her.

Food aggression. They inhale their food, they never eat anything that takes time or effort to prepare OR to consume (salad, omelette, pancakes/waffles, steak, etc.) and if the situation calls for it they can and will eat with their hands no matter how nasty their hands are. Permission to sit down for more than ten minutes and actually TASTE what they eat should be alien to them during recovery/leave if they get it.

Hazing. Sorry, but if your LWW is in a group with other soldiers or LWs, they're going to experience some kind of unpleasant/humiliating/dangerous initiation ritual, ESPECIALLY if the team is going someplace dangerous or going to be together for long stretches of time. Stealing clothes while your whumpee is in the shower, mocking them for things they can't control/weren't aware were 'weird', anything and everything that would get them screamed at or punished by the commanding figure on an individual basis. (For my NSFWhump peeps, yes this can include SA or harassment and often does, especially for women and effette/less masculine/nerdy men.)

Exercise as punishment. This can be extra labour, a pointless task they can later be yelled at for not stopping by curfew after not being told to stop at a given time, or even just the classic "drop and give me twenty!". Hitting or otherwise physically abusing a trainee is a federal offense, but for a LWW it depends... are you leaving a mark? Can they still perform as intended?

Just. The irl army is already pretty horrible and I don't see anyone making use of that.

[sci-fiolence]

I love putting characters in cages. I love putting non-human characters in cages and I love putting human characters in cages. I love when it’s definitely too small for them and I love when it’s big enough that they can pace like a tiger or curl up in the corner looking tiny in comparison. I love cages that electrocute or harm in some other way if they touch the bars. I love cages that become a character’s home so even though it makes them want to vomit, it feels so familiar to be back.

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Eryn's back curved viciously, threatening to break her in half, as two leathery wings burst out from her shoulder blades. The blinding pain was so intense she couldn't even scream.

Her father watched on, unmoved, as if waiting out a temper tantrum. Gianna, her sister, peered at her from behind him. And her fiancé, the man she loved, stared blankly with a sword in his hand.

Pain twisted her sorrow into fury; her limbs moved almost of their own accord and gathered under her. Her legs were ungainly, twice as long as they ought to be, but they wouldn't hold her weight.

When had she last tried to stand on her own? How many months had she spent trapped in this prison cell, slowly, agonizingly turning into a monster all alone in the dark?

The world swam around her. Unbalanced, she pitched forward and grasped at the bars of her cell as her body hit the floor and knocked all the air out of her.

Her breathing was labored, but she managed a long wheezing inhale, and then the remnants of words strung together to form a weak sentence.

"Did...any of...you...ever love me...?"

[This is another an excerpt from my unfinished and very whumpy web novel]

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sorry for curling up at your feet and whimpering like an injured dog that wasn't very mysterious of me

[sci-fiolence]

This is a very specific prompt, and while I did originally think it up in a pet whump context I actually think it could work for a lot of different whump genres, so here we go:

A shadowy, nebulous organization that offers a very dark service- if a whumper gets tired of their whumpee, or they feel that they just can’t break them, or they’re too worn out, this organization will dispose of them so that the whumper doesn’t have to dirty their hands with it themselves.

Now for the plot twist: it’s a front. The organization is actually a safe house that’s set itself up as a, for lack of a better term, euthanasia center for whumpees, so that they have a chance at saving the ones that are the most damaged. But the whumpers- and certainly not the whumpees- don’t know that.

Things I think could be done with this (and I might try writing this concept if I feel like it:)

- the sheer fear a whumpee would feel being told that they’re being taken to this place where they’re going to die, and then the relief and disbelief when they’re told no, it’s okay, you’re safe now.

- one of the rescuers, posing as one of the staff, getting a new whumpee dropped off and realizing that it’s someone they used to know. Bonus points if the whumpee recognizes them too.

- a whumper who drops their whumpee off at this place. The rescuers get the whumpee all set up and assure them that they’re safe- and then whumper comes back and says they’ve changed their mind, they want their whumpee back. Do the rescuers give them back to keep the secret safe, or do they refuse and have to convince the whumper that they’re already dead? What happens if whumper demands proof?

- a defiant whumpee who decides to go down fighting, not realizing that they’re fighting against people who are trying to help them.

- a whumpee who doesn’t believe for a second that this is a safe house- it’s just a front to keep them docile until the inevitable.

- a rival organization that actually does what it says it will, and now the fake organization has to compete with them for clients, fully knowing that the ones they don’t get to will die.

Please feel free to add on or let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more of this! When I have some free time I just might write it.

[sci-fiolence]

Famished Saints chapter one:

Content Warnings: sexual slavery, sexual abuse, institutionalized slavery, inappropriate attachment, hypersexuality, obsession, stockholm syndrome, hanging, execution, dark humor as a coping mechanism, violent threats, conditioned whumpee, whumpee-turned-whumper, human whumper, nonhuman whumpee

Note: This chapter doesn't contain explicit sexual assault or abuse, but later chapters will. Avoid it or seek it out to your own preference.

Aleksei looked out the window through parted curtains. Smoke strangled through the air of the city, obscuring his view of detail and colors. But his eyes remained fixed on the platform where criminals who could not be forced to labor were hung.

An old man was being led to the gallows today. Aleksei did not know him, nor what he had done to deserve death. He watched unblinking as the noose was affixed around his throat. As the trapdoor beneath his feet dropped and his body hung still, Aleksei imagined the sound of his neck breaking.

"What are you looking at?" Saskia asked. "Has a fight broken out?"

"No, it's nothing," Aleksei said. "Did you need my help?"

Saskia was stooped over her paper strewn desk. Her spine curved at a painful angle from the burden of her work. Strands of black hair escaped from her ponytail hung in the air before her beautiful face. The quill in her hand seemed at risk of breaking for how tightly she grasped it.

Aleksei stood by her side, now. A lace veil obscured his lower face. But that afforded him no modesty. His dress was sheer and scarce in matters of fabric. The dark bruises encircling his body were pretty and exposed, just as Saskia liked it.

His eyes, dark rimmed and red behind his glasses, flicked over her business papers. His mind did every calculation of loss and profit without prompting. Their business was in the black.

"How has Alvar's training come along?" Saskia asked. "I have someone interested in buying him, but if he plans on saying half the things to them that he said to me, I'll hold off on signing the papers."

"He does almost everything I tell him, sir," Aleskei said, a hint of pride in his voice. "He still has his moments, but it's nothing a good slap won't fix. I think he's ready to sell."

"I'll make that judgment," she said sharply. "...Thank you for your hard work, Alyosha. I can always count on you."

"I'm always happy to serve, sir."

And it was so. Aleksei knew how close he himself had gotten to the gallows, and if it weren't for Saksia's kindness towards him, he would have been hung and buried in an unmarked grave.

He hadn't understood, then, that his life was forfeit. He chafed against her control over him, foolishly believing that his life was still his own. The sorry, pathetic life he made nothing but trouble of.

But he loved her now. He loved her for every time she had beaten him to submission. For her constant reminders that he was her property. For all her effort spent teaching him, molding him, making him into the perfect, submissive companion.

He would be dead if not for her, and he did not allow that to slip his mind.

"You work too hard," he crooned, for Saskia was still bent over her papers. "Let me take care of you, sir. I'm sure your work will be just the same if you close your eyes for a few minutes."

She didn't answer, but she did set down her quill. Her wrist cracked loudly as she turned it. Aleksei's lithe fingers dug into the muscles of her shoulders, slowly working the tension out. For a woman who had so much sex, she desperately needed to relax.

"That's enough," she said, after only a minute or two of this. "I'm still working, and this won't resolve itself."

Aleksei made himself useful by refilling her inkwell. But he was soon by her side once more.

"I don't know why I'm spending this much money to keep you lot fed," she was saying. "Are you sure it's necessary?"

"Not at all, sir. We could all starve. Or I could decide everyone I didn't like didn't get fed." He playfully flicked his tail against her leg. "If you want to trade in exotic species, sir, you have to pay for exotic food."

Saskia smiled at his teasing, but now she looked more serious. "Well, I'm not making much money keeping them around, am I? I need new buyers."

"You're not making much money keeping me around either. So, when's the auction?" Aleksei knew what her answer would be. But he needed the reminder. Desperately. "I think you have an open Thursday next week."

"You're a different matter and you know that, Alyosha. Who else could I trust to train the slaves and the prostitutes under my employment? You have such a way with them."

"I'm a big, scary half-demon with sharp teeth, horns, and a better rack than they've ever seen." Aleksei tossed his lilac hair over his shoulder. The gaudy ornaments on his horns chimed as he moved his head. "It encourages them."

"You're also a conniving, devious thing. And if you have any qualms, I have yet to discover them." She dipped her quill in the inkwell. "I've hired professionals who can't break someone the way you can. Your skills were wasted in the gambling industry."

His heart must have been glowing inside his chest, for the way he felt. The chill that always settled on him in this room had dissipated. He loved Saskia. He loved the power that she gave him. And he could never truly belong to someone else.

"In that case, I don't think you'll need to find someone else to warm your bed for a long time. And I'm not going anywhere, sir."

"You'd better not be. I own you, and-"

"If you run away again, I'll put your horns over my fireplace," he said in time with her.

She smiled at him, and the worry lines marring her brown face almost disappeared. It was a warm, genuine smile that made his heart ache with longing. Longing to obey her, love her, take every lashing she could give him.

If she, this very moment, asked him to leap from her window, he would comply. She must have known, how could she not, the power she held over her bleeding heart pet. And yet all she asked of him was what he would so eagerly give.

Taglist: @boonasaurusrex @inbloodandtears

[sci-fiolence]

Injured and scared whumpee who has to be held down and blindfolded while receiving medical treatment, and after a while they stop thrashing around, quietly shivering instead..

When caretaker gently takes off their blindfold, the whumpee's eyes are still locked shut.

They try to comfort them, but whumpee just flinches at the touch.

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Omg omg oh my god!

Just saw someone mention the idea of whumper speaking a different language then whumpee and just yes!?

Whumpee feeling like an animal trying to learn human commands, whumpee can't understand a word whumper is saying and just hoping SOMETHING whumpee does ends up being right

"говорити" says whumper, while whumpee desperately tries to remember what that sound means, eyes glued to the bat in whumpers hand. Whumpee tries sitting, WHACK. The word is repeated, whumpee tries again, maybe it was that bow command, whumpee lowers their head hesitantly. They stumble to the ground as that blinding pain settles in their head, wrong again. "Please..." whumpee sobs, almost expecting another hit. Nothing. That's right, That word was speak. Whumpee can't help but melt with relief as whumper mutters praise in that foreign tongue, or at least they hope it's praise, the tone was at least sweet. Whumpee didn't care. They would pretend it was praise.

"тупа собака, одного дня ти навчишся~"

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“From now on, you have no responsibilities, no stress. I understand if you need to keep fighting, though. You need to feel like this is completely out of your control, or else you’ll feel guilty for resting. It’s alright. Fight until you’re satisfied that there’s no escape. I won’t take it personally.”

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Lab Whump Prompts

Whumpee who was bred to be a test subject/created in the lab. Maybe they have weak joints or muscles to prevent them from running away, or some kind of engineered brain damage to make them compliant and unable to run away. Maybe the whumpers even claim this is more ethical; after all, whumpee was engineered to be a test subject so that no one else has to be. The whumpee was created for this, and hasn't ever experienced anything else.

Newly captured lab whumpee crying on the floor in their sterile, empty cell. They don't know what's going on, they're so scared and just want to go home. All they can do is anticipate what horrible things will be done to them.

Newly captured whumpee who has just experienced their first day as a test subject. It's only downhill from there.

Whumper coming in to do a routine check of whumpee's vitals. It's nothing invasive or painful but whumpee still hates it because it feels so cold and impersonal, and because they're so scared of whumper.

Alternatively, whumpee not minding when whumper/carewhumper comes to take their vitals... they're so touch starved, that any contact is welcome, and whumper never hurts them during the routine checks.

Carewhumper bringing whumpee a blanket and some hot herbal tea with honey after a long day of painful experiments.

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robot whumpee getting Ship of Theseus'd. this isn't their body anymore. the slow removal of what was into what is, the tedious reconstruction of their body and mind until the unit they see in the mirror, with different eyes, a different face, different hands, different name, has to reconcile their memory with their impermanence. nothing is the same. is it a curse?

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“I’m not hiding you here out of the goodness of my heart, kid.”

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Imagine if characters in whump gifs were self aware. Time loops in fiction usually last longer than the handful of seconds that a gif does but the whumpee being aware that they're looping their worst moment over and over and over and omniscient beings are deliberately carving it out of their timestream frame by frame to eagerly rewatch it? Hehehe

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Chop chop chop !!!

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Whump community Reblog if you hate AI

it ruins the whole point of art

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I have no IDEA what to tag this as (cause I don't want to put it in like, the main tag), but I get a kick out of it so I'm putting it here

(Id in ALT)

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OUR OCS: